


He remembered

by chichoz



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M, Other, Rape/Non-con Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-13
Updated: 2018-05-13
Packaged: 2019-05-06 06:01:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14635574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chichoz/pseuds/chichoz
Summary: Harry is found after he'd been taken by the Dark Lord, they say he's broken. Harry doesn't really agree. A vague drabble/oneshot because I was in a dark mood





	He remembered

They called him broken, they had no idea. They had found him in a dungeon shackled, naked, blindfolded and close to bleeding out. He didn’t even really react when they came to get him. He still barely reacted at all, exept flinching away for bright light. The only time he seemd alive was when he woke trashing and begging. He remembered everything the Dark lord did to him.  
He had made the mistake of going there, he really shouldn’t have done that. What had he expected? For the Dark Lord to just accept that the golden boy came to die? He had been to much trouble and the Dark Lord was insane. How had he even hoped he would simply be killed on the spot.

He remembered feeling absolutely nothing after the loss of his godfather. He remembered the summer of no letters, of his friends betraying him like he meant nothing to them and if he was nothing to them than what was he at all? He remembered about the graveyard and finding a way to get back there. He remembered walking up to the house, begging to be taken to the Dark Lord. He remembered being cursed and dragged in front of the man. He remembered the Dark Lords high cold laughter, calling him a fool for coming there. He remembered the crucio and not even caring if he was screaming. He remembered being dumped in his cell unable to move. He remembered time slipping, but it had been hard to tell without food, light or any kind of company.  
He remembered being pulled up by a Deatheater, he never knew who it was with the masks.. He remember having a knife put to his throat and it being dragged all the way down just hard enough to cut through filthy clothing and leave a trail of blood. He remembered the Deatheater blinding him with a spell, creating a blindfold he couldn’t take off. He remembered the feeling of a tongue licking away the blood while he was shackled to the wall, just to high to actually stand all his weight on his arms. He remembered being bitten, feeling the blood come from the wound on his throat. He remembered spells being whispered against his skin. He remembered the agony of his skin peeling off. He remembered screaming and being chocked for it.  
He remembered the Deatheater taking him. He remembered the pain and feeling the blood run down his legs. He remembered begging because nothing mattered except the pain. He remembered the knife carving a hole between his ribs just shy of actually puncturing his lungs. He remembered the Deatheater using that when he got bored of his ass. He remembered the knife on his dick, threating to cut it off. He remembered the knife becoming burning hot while it was down there. He remembered screaming so high his voice broke and he couldn’t even beg anymore. He remembered the squelching sounds of the Deatheater using the hole. He remembered the Deatheater coming in that wound between his ribs.  
He remembered being in agony and being fed a potion, given no chance to spit it out. He remembered being moved, just slightly to the left and a bit higher. He remembered how he could no longer reach the floor at all. He remembered his shoulders giving out and dislocating. He remembered being so grateful for the placement because there was water dripping on him, a chance to get something to drink. He remembered quickly changing his mind about that. He remembered the water tasting like rust and dead things. He remembered starting to hurt because the dripping kept hitting the same spot and he couldn’t move. He remembered not even being able to fall asleep or lose consciousness, probably thanks to the potion. He remembered going absolutely mad being left alone in the dripping. He remembered the dripping not even being useful for telling time because there was no pattern in it. He remembered giving up any hope on being found. He remembered trying to beg and plead without a voice or without knowing if there was even anyone there to hear him.  
He remembered being so happy being taken of that wall. He remembered not even minding the fact that there were two pairs of hands on him. He remembered embracing the crucio and the burning spells. He remembered keening at the needles shoved under all of his nails. He remembered being taken again, this time by two Deatheaters. He remembered begging the best he could without a voice. He remembered coming to the feeling of another knife carefully skinning his cheek and the Deatheater licking away the blood, simply because it was something else as the constant dripping or loneliness. He remembered the Deatheaters laughing saying he was ready. 

He remembers being dragged upstairs, stumbling both because he was still blindfolded and because he didn’t have any strength left. He remembered being thrown on a stone floor, probably the throne room he had first been captured in. He remembered hearing gasps and whispers, realising there were a lot more Deatheaters here. He remembered the Dark Lord ordering him up. He remembered being taken by the Dark Lord, facing the Deatheaters, not that he could see them. He remembered the hand on his throat and the teeth on his neck. He remembered shamelessly begging for more. He remembered the Dark Lord coming and being thrown back to the floor to be used by the Deatheaters. He remembers begging and pleading and whining. He remembered enjoying it, wanting it, because at least he was useful this way. He remembered feeing lighter then ever because there was no more responsibility on his shoulders, he was merely there to be used.  
He remembered being thrown back in his cell exhausted. He remembered being shackled but having the freedom to move. He remembered being able to fall asleep for the first time since he came there. He remembered falling asleep and dreaming of being used again and again. He remembered waking up and almost begging to be taken up again. He remembered being so broken that he was almost happy like that, because he was useful and for once didn’t have to save anyone. He remembered no longer caring if he would be saved.

He remembered it going on for a while. He remembered being taken up to the Dark Lord four or five different times. He remembered enjoying it. He remembered making a vow to the Dark Lord. He remembered that he could never kill or even harm him. He remembered being so relieved about that, because now it was no longer his problem. He remembered no longer wishing to leave at all.  
He remembers his last night there. He remembers sleeping in the Dark Lords bed. He remembers an alarm going of and being taken to his cell. He remembered an angry Deatheater shackling him to the wall again, hissing how this was his fault. He remembered the Deatheater saying he was not worth the Dark Lords attention. He remembered the Deatheater cursing him and leaving him to bleed out.

He remembered sounds of fighting. He remembers shocked yells of his name. He remembered gentle hands taking him from the wall. He remembered struggling away from them, because gentle wasn’t good. He remembered flinching and whining when they took off his blindfold, no longer used to the light. He remembered being given a blood replenishing potion, and having the cuts healed. He remembered almost begging him to let him be, to let him stay there. He remembered the whispers full of pity saying he was broken. He remembered thinking that that was wrong, this was the least broken he’d ever been. 

He remembered being taken to Hogwarts. And he remembered that all he wanted was to be back in the Dark Lords bed.

**Author's Note:**

> sorry I know I need to work on the dark road.. I have the second chapter (almost) done but I don't like my own writing style so..


End file.
